


Letting go

by Anonymous



Category: Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, connor is gay panicking, just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Connor has always known he wasn't straight. He’s never said it to anyone before though, and he can’t remember a moment of his life where he wasn’t ashamed. His mom had always been very supporting, and she was openly pro-gay marriage, so it definitely didn’t come from there, and he had never known his dad, so it wasn’t from there either. Maybe it was because he liked girls, so part of him thought he could just pretend the other half didn't exist, that he could just “be normal”. Maybe it was school, with the insults and the bullying. Maybe it was fame, with the fans' expectations and the scrutiny surrounding his private life. He has no idea.But right now he can’t bring himself to care.This fanfic is inspired by the reunion scene, at the club. I was curious about what could have happened afterwards so I wrote this!
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10
Collections: Anon Works





	Letting go

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is probably OOC, I tried my best but my gay heart needs the fluff. Hope you can still enjoy it!

"Thanks man, it means a lot that you came out."  
  
"I'm glad I came too, for real."  
  
"That's good man..."  
  
They embrace tightly and Connor smiles, relieved. He almost lost his best friend, and he feels incredibly lucky to even get a second chance. He knows he acted like a complete asshole, and that now he’s got to do everything he can to make it up to him.  
  
He almost forgets to let go, and when he finally does he still keeps a steady arm around him. He glances at the bar and smiles. Maybe he can start making it up to him sooner than he thought.  
  
"Hey, how about a drink, on me?"  
  
Owen grins at him, and his heart clenches.  
  
"Dude you already apologized, it's okay!"

Connor smiles, wide and for once, sincerely. His friend is too good to him.  
  
"Come on Owen, I owe you one."  
  
"I mean… alright. A beer would be perfect right now honestly."  
  
Connor punches the air in celebration, knowing the gesture would make Owen smile and revels in it when it does.  
  
They turn around to face the bar and order a few drinks, joking around, catching up.

  
  
"… and that's how I got an opportunity here! It's been a while since I played like this, I think I needed it."  
  
"And you crushed it!"  
  
"Thanks! Oh and Connor? Don't feel bad about your horse thing, it’s cool! I used to watch it with my mom when I was a kid. Horses rule."  
  
Owen stops and brings his glass to his lips. They drink in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s company. Connor hadn’t realized how much he had missed having Owen around. The whole time it felt like he was missing a part of himself. They had been together for so long, almost forever. Own was in his oldest memories, in his best and in his worst ones too. Always by his side, always on his team, always a friend. Until he fucked it all up.

He glances at his side, wondering how in hell he got so lucky. He takes advantage of the dim lights of the club to study his friend’s profile, taking in all the little details, part of himself still terrified of loosing him for good. Almost on accident, Connor’s eyes land on his lips, glossy under the colorful spotlights, hypnotizing. He almost doesn’t hear Owen when he speaks up again.  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry man, but if you want to keep talking to me, you'll have to take that thing off. I really can't keep a straight face for so long while talking to that thing."  
  
He almost falls from his tool, from surprised and embarrassment from being caught staring, but Owen doesn’t seem to have noticed anything. Blessed be his friend’s obliviousness, and that stupid disguise, under which he’s definitely blushing furiously. He gathers himself and smiles.  
  
"Hey, a bit of respect for my makeup skills, come on!"

Owen laughs and Connor exhales.

On one side, he knows that he really hurt Owen and that just getting to share a drink with him is a blessing. He knows that he probably has plans which he should live him to, but…

It feels incredibly selfish, but he yearns to spend as much time with him as possible, to make up for the moments they have lost because of him. And not just after Owen left. He cant help but think of all the time he spent being an absolute asshole to him. 

Owen deserves better, but since he has decided to stick up with him anyway, he has to try his best to become better. For the first time in a while, he wants to work for something. Something that matters. He turns to him with a smile he hopes confident.  
  
"Alright fair. Wanna get back to my place? This this place is crazy loud anyway, I can’t hear half the shit you’re saying."  
  
"I'd love to dude, but didn't you say you were staying at your mom’s?"  
  
"You know she likes you, she wouldn't mind! But no don't worry, she ain't there anyway. Just needed a place that's... I dunno... comforting?"  
  
Owen smiles at him softly and Connor feels himself melt. It’s okay. He can do this.  
  
"You don't have to explain yourself, don't worry dude. I’d love to."  
  
"Thanks Owen."

He pays for their drink, leaving a generous tip, and starts looking around for Paula, hoping to hitch a ride since there’s no way either of them can drive. He finally spots her further down the bar, chatting with another woman, laughing and smiling wide. Well, walking it is.

He turns back to Owen, who's waving at Paula, a knowing look in his eyes as he winks at her and gives her a thumbs up, which she returns. He looks at Connor to give him a nod, and they head out, their hands almost touching as they leave the cramped room.

His mother’s place isn’t too far, so they managed to go back realively quickly and unharmed, making pleasant -if a bit tipsy- conversation on the way.

Connor opens the door with a victorious whisper-cry after a few pathetic tries, and they stumble inside, snickering drunkenly.  
  
"Soooo, what do you want? I think I drank most of everything but-" he glances back at Owen, just now realizing that his friend is not following him anymore.

He turns back fully to see him completely still, his body angled towards the living room. He can barely make out its chaotic state with the slither of light escaping from the corridor where they’re standing.

He looks back at Owen and follows his gaze more carefully, landing on the pile of empty bottles. He can hear him gulp in the deafening silence. Owen doesn’t look away from the bottles as he whispers.  
  
"I thought you were staying here on your own?"

"I am."

A pang of guilt hits him. The hurt and worry in Owen’s voice is worse than a punch in the gut. He got so wrapped up in their reunion that he completely forgot about how much of a mess the place was. Of how much of a mess he was. He wants to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat.

"I..."

"Fuck Connor, are you okay?"

Connor’s eyes go blank as he searches desperately for the right words. An explanation. Anything. He resorts to a joyful mask, not wanting to hurt his friend any more than he already has with his problems.  
  
"I… yeah bro, I’m good, don’t worry about this, it’s fine. Jeez I’m sorry it’s such a mess though!"

He laughs dryly, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes at his feet. He’s afraid that if he meets Owen’s his fragile facade will crumble.

He feels a light touch on his elbow as Owen grabs him gently, and he follows him quietly as they go sit on the couch. There’s a few seconds of silence, and he just… waits.

He still doesn’t look at Owen, but he can feel his eyes on him, strong but… hesitant. He remembers that Owen still has a hand on his arm when he feels it brush the soft fabric of his shirt downward, until it grabs his own.  
  
"Why… why didn't you tell me about this?"  
  
"I don’t- I… Owen I treated you like shit. I was a complete jerk to you, and I can’t begin to apologize for it. And as dumb as that makes me, when we weren’t talking anymore I thought… I thought I could just. I dunno. I tried to convince myself that I was better like this. Obviously I was wrong."

He sighs, exhausted but relieved. He hadn’t even realized half of that shit this before, and he’s surprised to be able to open up so easily about it. He feels Owen’s hand squeeze his own.  
  
"Connor, you're my best friend, and I know we haven't talked in a while but I really want you to know that you can tell me this shit, alright? I’ve seen you at your worst man, do you think I can’t handle this? Or is it a pride thing? 'Cause like, fuck that."

They laugh, and Owen wipes at his eyes discretely.

_Fuck._  
  
"Thanks Owen. I just..."  
  
He wants to tell him everything, he’s just so afraid. He feels his stomach clench from anxiety and shame, but deep down he knows that Owen won’t make fun of him. Not here, holding his hands on an old couch, looking at him with affection and patience.  
  
"Okay, I... I just realized that... my album sucks."

The silence stretches for a few seconds, as Connor anxiously waits for his answer.

A laugh. A frown. Anything.

But Owen just gives him an encouraging smile, squeezing his hand again. He better stop doing that because if he gets any softer with him he might dissolve into a puddle. He gulps and continues his painful confession.  
  
"I know Lawrence has always been better than me at writing, but I didn't want to admit it. I wanted to do everything perfectly, and by myself. Wanted to prove something, I guess. I even refused your compositions to do my own shit. I put you in a stupid headpiece. It hurt you, and I didn't give a shit about it, or at least I forced myself not to give a shit. Fuck. I'm just- I don't deserve you okay? You’re just so good, and honest and even now. You’re here!! Man, why are you still with me after all the bullshit I pulled?"  
  


When he stops, his heart is racing and his breathing labored. He can almost hear it, the carefully constructed wall of fame and indifference surrounding his heart exploding, and there’s nothing to hold back the flood. His emotions starts leaking out into heavy tears rolling down his cheeks.  
  
"I- I'm so sorry Owen, you deserve better- better than this... than me."  
  
Owen instantly puts his arms around him in a tight hug. It’s awkward from their position on the couch, and he can feel his face wetting the fabric of Owen’s shirt, but he gets his arms around his waist and doesn’t let go. He can feel Owen’s trembling voice as he whispers into his hair, a hand gently patting his back.  
  
"Connor shut your stupid mouth, you son of a bitch. You're trying to be better, and right now... that's enough."  
  
He doesn’t know how long they stay there, in a desperate embrace in his messy living room, but Owen doesn’t seem to mind. He runs his hands up and down his back.  
  


He does stand up after a while, painfully untangling his limbs from Owen’s to look at him properly. And that's when his brain chooses to remind him that he’s still wearing makeup, and that he must make quite the horrific picture right now.  
  
"Fuck. I look like shit right? I should probably take this off..."

Owen snickers, the bastard, and it shouldn’t make him feel so soft but it does.

"You think?"  
  
Connor gives him the bird and gets up, carefully avoiding the mess on the ground as he walks towards the bathroom. He closes the door behind him and presses his palms on his eyes for a moment, breathing slowly.

_I’m_ _okay. We’re okay._ _I don’t know what I did to deserve him but… I can do this. Yeah._ _Come on Connor, all you have to do is not_ _let this dumb crush ruin shit and you should be cool. Okay._  
  
He comes out a few minutes later, free from his makeup hell and in his pyjamas. Owen looks up at him with a smile. Is he dreaming or is Owen eyeing him up and down? He almost misses the makeup, now there’s nothing to hide the colour rising to his cheeks.  
  
"Getting comfortable I see."  
  
"I mean, I’m in my house! Don’t try and tell me you stay in your jeans at home, I’ve seen you.”  
  
He hesitates in front of the couch for a minute, unsure of where to sit. His head is still spinning slightly from the alcholol, and the hug shattered all of his established mental rules about acceptable distance on a couch. In the end, he sits close enough for their knees to touch, but far enough so he wouldn’t invade Owen’s space.  
  
"Hi."

_Why am I like this._

Owen smiles again.

"Hi Connor."

_Thank God._

"I… thanks Owen. I really suck at words don’t I?"  
  
"I don’t mind, I like your words. And you’re welcome. Hey, this is gonna sound cheesy as hell but I really missed you and I’m drunk. I didn’t say it enough before, and I really regreted it when I thought it was over. You know I love you, right?"  
  
_Oh._  
  
"I know."  
  
_I_ _can’t believe_ _I_ _just Han Solo-ed him._

He knows that Owen won’t press for more, but he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t care.

"I love you too."

Connor has always known he wasn't straight. He’s never said it to anyone before though, and he can’t remember a moment of his life where he wasn’t ashamed. His mom had always been very supporting, and she was openly pro-gay marriage, so it definitely didn’t come from there, and he had never known his dad, so it wasn’t from there either. Maybe it was because he liked girls, so part of him thought he could just pretend the other half didn't exist, that he could just “be normal”. Maybe it was school, with the insults and the bullying. Maybe it was fame, with the fans' expectations and the scrutiny surrounding his private life. He has no idea.

But right now he can’t bring himself to care.

He looks at his best friend for what feels like both the first and the millionth time, and part of him wants nothing but to close the gap between them, so he does. Thinking things through had ever been his strong suit after all.

He closed his eyes somewhere on the way, and it feels like everything but Owen’s lips against his has vanished. He starts to float in this void, before the cold realization that Owen isn't kissing him back brings him right down to earth in a rapid and violent crash.

He breaks the kiss and opens his eyes, almost nauseous with worry and regret.  
  
"Fuck dude I- I'm so sorry! I'm drunk, I don't know what I'm doing, I don't-"  
  
Owen’s face is completely unreadable, and Connor’s worry shifts into panic.  
  
"Owen I’m sorry, I’m gonna-"

He gets ups clumsily to leave when Owen grabs him again, with more force than before.

"Wait!"

He feels himself get pulled back into the couch, gently but with conviction. Owen’s face isn’t blank anymore, which is reassuring, but Connor is still worried, as all he can see is confusion and surprise. He expects Owen to gently reject him, maybe reassure him that they’re still friends if he’s lucky, before getting up and leaving.  
  
Instead, Owen grabs the front of his shirt and they meet in a bruising kiss. The screeching fears that had started eating him up get silenced instantly by the fire growing inside of him. He feels almost delirious as he kisses him back.

_He likes me that way too._

He can feel Owen tugging at him, shifting their position until Connor is completely on top of him, never leaving more than an inch of space between their lips. His head feels dizzy from the alcohol, and-

_Oh no._

He buries his head in Owen’s shoulder, knowing that he needs to say something but not strong enough to leave his warmth so soon.

"Du- dude we shouldn't."  
  
"I swear to god if you're going pull the "I'm straight" crap on me right now-"  
  
"No that’s not- I mean fair but that’s not what I mean. We're drunk. I want to do this right, and I don't want us to regret it tomorrow."  
  
"Wow that’s… way more mature than I expected from you honestly”, adds Owen with a laugh, but he still shimmies away slightly. Connor feels a whine escape from his throat as he lifts his head up, away from the reassuring heat of their embrace, but Owen cups his face gently and he leans into it.  
  
"It's okay, we don't have to do anything. I'd be happy to just leave it at that for tonight, if that’s what you want. I just… I just hope it means something. It does to me."  
  
Connor blinks a few times, stunned. He still can’t believe his luck.  
  
"Yeah- I. It definitely does. Cool cool cool. I'd really like that too."

Owen steals a quick kiss from him again, almost as if he couldn’t help it.  
  
"Here's my idea. I can go home, we both get rest and we reevaluate in the morning. The last thing I want right now is to leave but… I know you’re right -for once-, this ain’t something we wanna rush."

Connor is terrified a the idea, that maybe if he lets go right now he might loose… whatever this is, for good. But no. He trusts Owen, and if he tells him he’s serious about it, then he is.

He exhales.

"… Okay. Coffee, tomorrow?"

Owen nods with a hopeful smile.

"I’ll bring breakfast."

Owen gets up, takes a few step before turning around and he kisses him again.

"Goodnight Connor."

With that, he’s gone, and for the first time in weeks Connor can’t wait for the sun to go up again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, how is it being part of the smallest fandom in existence? *distant sobbing*  
> I know it looks like there should be a part two but honestly it took me a year to finish this alone, so I can't promise anything, but if you're interested in what might happen next (probably smut) leave me a comment!


End file.
